Pizza Earns a Father's Love, Right?
by HumanBarricade
Summary: After countless attempts to get his father to appreciate and be proud of him, Harry Osborn decides that if being good won't work then maybe being bad will. He formulates a pizza-related plan to get revenge against his horrible father. On the side, Peter is the only one who can make it to Harry's birthday party. Rated T for language, mild drug use, and sarcasm.
1. Intro

Harry stared outside his bedroom window with a glum look on his face. The clear sky and bright sun contrasted starkly with his mood. His father once again had been a major asshole. He refused to go to Harry's virtual baseball tournament! How could he?

Frustrated and hurt, Harry pulled his lamp away from the wall and threw it into the window. Glass shattered everywhere. Almost magically, no glass so much as touched a precious hair on his head.

"Why doesn't my dad care about me?" Harry shouted at nothing.

Man did he love monologues. When nothing replied back as expected, Harry sat down on his bed with a sigh. He was like the best kid ever with no bad qualities to speak of. His dad never appreciated his hard work.

"If being good isn't good enough, then I'll just be bad," he decided with a large grin.

He proceeded to rub his hands together and laugh in a maniacal fashion.

* * *

 **This is obviously a story I wrote just for fun. I hope you enjoy it.**


	2. The Call

A cell phone and Oscorp credit card conveniently lay on the coffee table in front of Harry. He'd gone through a long complicated journey to retrieve the card without his dad noticing. It's a real shame that part was cut out.

"Finally," Harry began, feeling the sleek thin plastic in his hands. "Now I can get my revenge. Revenge will totally help me earn my father's love."

He then dialed a very familiar number.

"Hello," a man greeted on the cell phone.

"Hey, Pete. I'm about to earn my father's love through revenge. Isn't that great?" Harry told Peter excitedly.

"Um, won't that just utterly fail and make him mad?" Peter asked.

"Shut the fuck up, it's a great plan. You just don't understand! Why don't you just go be bffs with Spider-Man or something?" Harry shot.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm better than okay. I'm high as fuck right now," Harry replied coolly, leaning back on the couch.

"Um…do I want to know how?"

"I got into my dad's stash of mystery-powder. There are unicorns and tasty green sounds of whales everywhere."

"Okay, you have fun with that. I'll just be over here totally _not_ being Spider-Man and recruiting every superhero character Disney can possibly shove into this cluster-fuck of a team except you and MJ. Yup. That is _not_ what I will be doing."

"Cool. Oh I just remembered, my birthday party is next Saturday and you're really the only one who can make it. You'd better show up even though some convoluted reason will cause you to miss it. I will end our friendship permanently if you so much as miss a second of it. Plus it's not like you have any real friends besides MJ and I. No pressure," Harry threatened.

Peter hung up instantly.

"What a great friend," Harry sighed with a smile. "Now to start my perfect plan."

He called…( _dramatic pause for effect_ )…Pizza Hut.

"Hello, this is Pizza Hut. What can we do for you?" a boy with a cracking voice droned.

"I would like to order…" Harry trailed off.

What was a number so large, so unbelievably unthinkable that it would drain his father's account dry?

"Fifteen million large pizzas topped with as much bacon as possible," he finished.

"Listen sir, I can tell this is a prank so—" the teen began.

"You don't think I can afford this? I'm Harry freaking Osborn. My father owns Oscorp. We have literally billions of dollars just floating around. I will order as many pizzas as I please no matter the price."

"Even if you can, how are we supposed to make 15 million pizzas all at once?"

"Figure it out! I will pay you in gold if that's what it takes."

"Yeesh okay. Let's see, large pizza with about a pound of bacon. Hmm that'd be around fifty dollars a pizza," he informed, calculator buttons faintly clicking in the background of the call. "That will come to a grand total of seven hundred and fifty million dollars."

"Pah, that's not even close to a dent. Since I'm feeling generous make it one full billon. Use the extra money as a tip or something."

"Okay, sir. I'll see what I can do. If my boss approves then I'll call back for payment."

"You're welcome. You're boss better promote you for this."

Pizza Hut guy then hung up. Harry could already imagine tons of pizzas towering over everything inside of Oscorp. He dad would be so proud.


	3. Credit Card Number

Harry played on his Xbox for about half an hour before the Pizza Hut kid called him back.

"Great news," the kid squealed. "We are accepting your order."

"Yes!" Harry shouted.

"But the bad news is we won't be able to completely process it for at least two weeks. It will probably be closer to a month," the kid said in a more glum tone.

Harry furrowed his brow.

"Get it done by this week or I will refuse to pay," he growled at the kid through the phone.

"Okay, we'll do what we can. The faster we get paid the faster we can use that money to get all the stuff we need to process your huge order."

"Fine!" Harry growled, picking up his dad's credit card. "The number on the card is 1234-5678-9876-5432."

"Okay, if you get our app you can see live progress on your order."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't you have like 15 million pizzas to make?"

"Yes, sir," the kid groaned, promptly hanging up.

Having nothing better to do, Harry downloaded the app. They'd already made 100 of his pizzas. This pleased him.


	4. Drugs and News

_An unspecified amount of days later…_

Norman and Harry silently sat on the couch together, a very obvious space between them. College had been a bore for the last few weeks for Harry. That, however, didn't stop Norman from making him go. If Harry had his way he would rather party, hang out with his two real friends, or play video games. School sunk very low on his list of things he cared about.

"How is college?" Norman asked, as if on cue.

"It sucks and I hate it," Harry scoffed, pouting and sticking his tongue out.

"That's nice, son. I'll be up in my office if you need me," Norman replied, standing up and walking upstairs.

"YOU PIECE OF SHIT I HOPE YOU DIE!" Harry screamed, throwing a pillow towards his dad and missing by a long shot.

"Don't stay up too late. You have math early in the morning tomorrow," Norman warned. He also added under his breath before closing the office door, "I really need to hide my stash. A high Harry isn't a good Harry."

"Hmph," Harry sighed, crossing his arms. "Why does he always see me as a grade? I'm a person, not a number. Can love even be put on a scale of 1 to 10?"

Suddenly, breaking news flashed across the screen. Pictures of Pizza Huts all around the country and crowds of people making pizza took up the screen.

"This just in," a super sexy reporter gal wearing too much makeup and sporting a dress hardly appropriate for TV informed. "An unknown billionare, believed to live somewhere in Manhattan, has recently ordered 15 million large bacon-packed pizzas to be delivered to him by the end of this week. Pizza Hut has scrambled to employ anyone they can get their hands on to make every single one. Hundreds of thousands of people have already been employed just to get the ingredients to the restaurants themselves. Many more are needed to prepare, cook, package, and deliver these greasy snack foods. If you're in need of a job or just want some extra money get down to your local Pizza Hut today. Do not delay. A bulk of these jobs will be gone by the end of the week. Seriously get your asses down there!"

Harry scrambled to find the remote. He snatched it from under a couch cushion and immediately turned the TV off. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slumped down to sit on the floor next to all the scattered couch cushions. Norman slowly creaked open the door upstairs.

"Is everything all right down there, Harry?" Norman yelled.

"Yes. I'm just plotting my revenge," Harry groaned, rolling his eyes fully knowing Norman couldn't witness it.

"All right, you have fun," he called back before slamming the door.

"What an asshole," Harry spat under his breath. "He won't even acknowledge my soon-to-be-revenge."

He turned the TV back on but turned the volume way down. The sexy reporter gal now talked about a litter of purebred beagle puppies that needed a new home. Harry drooled over her until they switched to a wrinkly middle-aged man who droned on in the most boring way possible.

"Donald Trump-" the man slowly drawled before Harry turned the power off again.

"I could care less," Harry snarled at the powered-off television. "Just because I'm old enough to vote doesn't mean I will or want to. If a candidate promised to get my father to love me then I would vote for him. If only these possibly future presidents catered to one person's needs instead of everyone's."

Slowly, Harry pulled out his cell phone and opened up his Pizza Hut app. They had 4,090,998 pizzas made so far. They were almost one third of the way there. It'd been about three days since he ordered. Judging by the recruitment plea on TV, they were bound to finish in time.

"Splendid," he whispered to himself, smirking and rubbing his hands together. "Everything is going just as planned."


	5. Birthday: Part 1

_Days later..._

"I hope Peter can make it to my birthday party today," Harry told himself as he stood up from his bed.

Harry slowly changed from his pajamas into his usual sweater-vest over a long sleeved shirt and jeans. He hoped he could go shopping for new clothes. These had gone out of style. Suddenly his phone started to ring.

"Hello," he greeted.

"Hey Harry, it's Pete," Peter replied.

"Wait, don't tell me, you can't come," Harry groaned.

He could already imagine his sucky birthday party. Forever alone posters hung on the walls as he cried in a corner. Harry swore that he would rage if Peter confirmed that he couldn't come to his party.

Peter corrected, "No. I can come."

"Oh," Harry replied awkwardly. "Then why the glum tone?"

"It's not glum. I'm just tired," Peter yawned. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Why?" Harry asked, extremely interested in Peter's sleeping habits because he was writing a book on them.

Peter clearly lied in a defensive tone, "Reasons that have nothing to do with vigilante crime fighting!"

"Okay, well I'll see you at 3:00 then."

"Yup," Peter confirmed.

Harry glanced outside at the sun, hoping he could blind himself out of boredom.

He sighed,"Yes."

Peter replied, "Mm hm."

"Yeah," Harry said back, hoping this awkward conversation would end.

"I'm just gonna hang up now," Peter stated.

"Okay."

Harry stared at his hung up cell phone. His phone buzzed, alerting him that his order of pizzas was almost done. Smiling, he couldn't wait to have his butlers prepare his party while he went on another spending spree with his father's credit card. Fancy clothes wouldn't buy themselves.

~ _One Magical Clothing Montage Later_ ~

"Hmm, all those clothes looked horrible on me. I'll buy all of them!" Harry told the cashier, handing her the shiny credit card.

The cashier raised her eyebrow and cautiously took the card. She slid it and waited for Harry to sign. He sighed "Fuck You!" in sloppy writing. Snickering, he took the card and his bags and left.

Once he got home, he threw the bags of clothes into the dark depths of his closet. A small piece of Venom extended an armlike appendage towards him in the shadows.

"Gross, no Venom! Wait until freaking Season 5 or some shit. Disney won't let me be Venom right now because Agent Venom sells better. Ruin his image before you come crawling back to me," Harry groaned before shutting his closet doors.

"Ugh, symbiotes. Such desperate creatures," he sighed, walking out into his living room.

What looked like trillions of balloons floated in a cluster on the ceiling. Streamers covered a large portion of the walls in many different colors. A giant chocolate cake, surrounded by copious amounts of other snacks, sat on a table in the middle of the room. Harry's mouth watered. Just as he was about to stick his right index finger into the frosting, his father entered the room through the front door.

"Yes, yes of course. Who wouldn't?" Norman asked, holding his cell phone to his ear.

"Dad? Did you remember my birthday?" Harry asked, mustering puppy eyes.

Ignoring his son, Norman added to his call, "What? Repeat that….Spider-man? Yes, I know who he is. What about him?"

Harry's brows furrowed as he pouted. He clenched his fists. A scream forced it's way out of his mouth.

"IT'S MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY AND ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS SPIDER-MAN?!" Harry yelled at his father.

Norman paused for a moment, but continued on with his call. Harry felt a part of himself die. He shed a small tear.

"What will it take for you to notice me?" Harry bawled, knocking over his table of snacks.

Frosting and cake landed on the leather couch. Guacamole and other dips soaked into the carpet. Soda spilled all over the coffee table. Pizza sauce splat onto Harry's shoes. Norman glanced over at Harry, shrugged, and then walked upstairs.

"No, I wouldn't worry about it," Norman replied to his caller, before he left into his office.

Harry grabbed chunks of food and threw them throughout the room. He needed his father to notice him. How could he ignore screaming and food staining their expensive furniture? Norman hadn't even scolded him. Rage took over as Harry started breaking everything in sight. He yanked paintings off of the wall and snapped them in half. Vases, sculptures, and figurines were shattered on the floor. Even the TV did not escape his wrath.

"Why won't you acknowledge me, Dad!?" Harry asked, falling to his knees into the globs of food on the floor.

Suddenly, the front door opened again. Peter popped his head into the room. His jaw dropped.

"Peter?" Harry said, now wishing he hadn't trashed the room.

"Is, um, this a bad time?" Peter asked, rubbing his neck.

"No...Maybe eating out would be a good idea," Harry suggested, standing up out of the food.

Slowly, Peter stepped into the room. He gave Harry a weird look.

He informed, gesturing towards Harry, "You've got a little something...everywhere."

"I'll just change into something no fan girl would believe I would wear," Harry replied, waving his hand.

He sprinted to his room. He threw on a gray long-sleeved shirt, a green scarf, purple-tinted sunglasses, tight jeans with a freakishly abstract pattern, and black tennis shoes. As he walked out into the room, Peter had to try his hardest not to laugh.

"That's-," Peter giggled. "That's great, Har."

"Shut up, I'm fabulous!" Harry shot, posing with one hand on his hip and the other in his flowing red hair.

The two walked out of the room, carefully avoiding chunks of sticky food and glass shards. Harry had zero idea where to go. Wherever it was, he hoped they had cake.


	6. Birthday: Part 2

"Hey, wanna go get mexican food?" Harry asked Peter as they sat in a fancy limo.

"Um-" Peter hardly replied back.

"What? You don't like mexican food? Are you racist or something?" Harry shot, his purple glasses falling off and landing in his lap as he shook his head.

Peter held up his hands and cautiously replied, "No. I was going to say sure. Mexican food sounds fine."

"Oh, right. Cool," Harry mumbled, his face getting hot.

After Harry put his sunglasses back on, the two sat in silence. Harry could feel his high wavering. He forgot to get another bag of mystery powder from his dad's office. Rubbing his head, he looked around the limo frantically. He checked below seats, inside drink holders, and in any nook or cranny his dad would hide such mystical drugs. Peter raised an eyebrow and subtly scooted away from him.

"Ugh, Har, what are doing?" he asked.

"What?!" Harry replied defensively, sitting back in his seat. "Nothing! I'm doing absolutely nothing. I was not desperately searching for drugs. Nope. Not what was happening. I'm normal as fuck."

"Yes...That's-that's great."

Harry glared at Peter. Peter rubbed his neck while giving Harry an awkward smile. Sighing, Harry giggled and laid back in his seat.

"Yup, I am great. I'm too good for drugs. But do you know what I'm not to good for?" Harry asked, grinning at Peter.

"What?"

"Tequila."

"Tequila?"

"Yes. No one can resist such a spirit. You should try some when we get there," Harry suggested.

Peter replied, "I'd rather-"

"You're drinking it whether you like it or not!" Harry shot grabbing Peter's shirt and glaring at him through his sunglasses.

Eyes widening, Peter scooted further away from his insane friend. He suddenly wondered if coming to Harry's birthday party was even worth it.

"Do I really have to?" Peter gulped.

"Yes," Harry snickered, releasing his grip on Peter's shirt.

Once they arrived at the restaurant, Peter immediately had to go to the restroom. Harry shrugged and looked over the menu. Most of the dishes had spanish names. Cursing at himself for failing every second language class he had, he decided to just get a fancy burrito. He at least knew what that was. Peter soon returned with a nervous smile.

"Do you have to leave or something?" Harry asked, pouting and setting down his menu.

"Nope. No Spider-man stuff to do right now. I-I mean Aunt May does not have a goldfish emergency or leaky toilet or anything. Life is great. Speaking of life, how's college?" Peter struggled to reply, changing the subject.

Harry groaned while removing his sunglasses, "College sucks. I have C's in English and biochem. I also have a fucking D in math so far, which my dad obviously wants me to bring up. Don't even ask about economics."

"Yeesh, do you want me to help tutor you or anything?" Peter offered.

He picked up a menu as Harry explained, "Pssht, hell no. My dad needs to realize that I don't need college. I'm swimming in cash. What do I need school for? At this rate, I could just take over Oscorp and get paid billions for harnessing the powers of Spider-man's blood or whatever my dad is trying to do."

"Harness what now?" Peter asked, shocked.

"I don't know. Some stupid science shit. Hey, did I ever tell you about my brilliant plan to get my dad to finally love and accept me?"

"The pizza one? Yeah."

"I can't wait to see literally mountains of pizzas towering inside of Oscorp. The look on his face will be priceless."

"Harry, how will that even-"

"Hey, that waiter's finally here," Harry interrupted.

Harry ordered a burrito and tequila right away. Having spent a majority of his time distracted by Harry's ranting, Peter picked something random.

"What about your life?" Harry asked, smirking.

"What about it?"

Harry claimed, "I know your dirty little secret."

Peter started to sweat. Judging by his statement about harnessing Spider-man's blood, he feared Harry figuring out about his alter ego. Maybe he wanted to be evil just to prove something to his father.

"Harry, wait I-"

"No, you can't hide it forever. I know that you and MJ are totally dating!" Harry laughed. "Tell me, have you two kissed yet? Are you going steady with her? Are you planning on moving in together?"

Peter flushed white. Harry's accusation caught him completely by surprise.

"We aren't a thing," Peter assured, slightly blushing.

"Suuure. Luke and Ava used to say the same thing. And now look at them."

The waiter suddenly brought Harry a bottle of tequila and two glasses to pour it in. He skillfully poured the beverage into the glasses. Harry watched like a ravenous beast awaiting its next meal. Once the waiter left, he downed his entire glass. He started to cough, but smiled nonetheless.

"That's the real shit," Harry sighed, smiling widely.

"Aren't you still eighteen?" Peter asked.

"Shh! Shut up. I'm rich. You're having some too," Harry whisper-yelled, pushing a glass towards Peter.

Shocked, Peter glanced up at Harry and argued, "I don't want to break the law."

Harry insisted, "Oh, come on. It's not like Spider-man will break through the window right as you drink it. Law enforcement has better things to worry about, like my dad. Besides, if you don't drink that entire glass I will rampage throughout this entire restaurant. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Whoa, okay okay. I'll drink a little," Peter gave up, taking the glass and drinking a small amount.

It tasted odd and kind of burnt. He wondered how people could drink this stuff. Downing a whole glass sounded insane.

"ALL of it," Harry snarled.

"All at once?"

"I guess not, but it better be gone by the time you finish your food."

Peter sat back in his seat and rubbed his face. The fact that Harry's birthday party had just started began to sink in. He wondered how he would survive it.


	7. Birthday: Part 3

Once the waiter came with Harry's burrito and Peter's unknown dish, Harry immediately poured another glassful of tequila for himself. Peter prodded his food with a fork. He had no idea what he had ordered. It appeared rotten, but he wasn't sure if it was.

Harry laughed, "Come on, Pete, eat up. It's my birthday."

"I, um, I have no idea what this is," Peter reluctantly admitted.

After drinking some of his tequila, Harry asked, "Did the waiter bring you the wrong thing?"

"N-"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he takes that shit back and brings you the right food," Harry growled, standing up from his chair.

"Harry! Don't make a scene," Peter whispered, grabbing his friend's arm and yanking him back into his seat.

"Ouch. All right," Harry mumbled, nursing his wrist.

Sighing, Peter scooped up a forkful of the mystery goop. He cautiously smelled it and took a bite. Feeling like he was about to gag, he dropped his fork back onto the plate.

"Ha, you can't eat it," Harry snickered before biting into his burrito.

"At least you know what your food is," Peter mumbled, drinking his tequila only to wash down the horrible taste of his food.

"Are you saying a burrito is too easy to eat?" Harry asked, setting his fists on the table. "I'll make it a challenge."

"Harry, wait. You don't need to do that."

"No. It's too late. I'll pour a shit-ton of hot sauce on my burrito and eat it just fine. Watch me."

Peter facepalmed. He couldn't understand exactly why his friend was acting so weird. It was like Harry had something to prove. Quickly, Harry grabbed the bottle of hot sauce and emptied the entirety of it onto his burrito. Both could smell the spicy fumes.

"Please don't eat that," Peter begged.

"You can't tell me what to eat. I won't back down. I am going to eat this burrito and win!" Harry exclaimed.

A few people turned their heads when Harry yelled. Sinking down in his chair, Peter drank a small sip of his tequila. He hoped no one he knew would witness this crazy party.

Grinning, Harry cut off a piece of his burrito and shoved it into his mouth with a fork. He chewed it, swallowed it, and began to cut off another piece. All of sudden, he dropped his fork and grabbed his throat. He violently coughed, desperately grasping for his glass. As Peter stood up out of his chair, Harry gulped down the glass of tequila. Peter pat Harry's back as he violently coughed.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked Harry.

Glancing up, he didn't reply. People were staring at him. Even the waiters were giving him concerned looks.

"Let's just leave," Harry groaned, standing and batting Peter's hand away. "I need cake."

Confused but glad he didn't have to drink any more tequila, Peter followed. Harry dropped a one hundred dollar bill on the table before they left.

After they entered the limo again, Harry slid on his purple glasses. He wasn't sure if he was sick or buzzed at this point.

"There's a fancy bakery several blocks from here. I'm sure they have good cake," Harry assured.

Disturbed by the awkward silence, Harry glanced over at Peter who happened to be looking at him in a very concerned way.

"Harry, are you all right?" he asked.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry sighed, "I haven't been high for almost twenty-four hours. I'm just a little...drowsy, down, I don't know. Cake has sugar so it'll help or something."

Shaking his head, Peter replied, "I don't do drugs, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works."

"You didn't drink all of your tequila!" Harry suddenly remembered.

Peter reminded, "You got up and insisted that we leave."

"Whatever. After cake we'll go back to my place and you'll drink another cup of tequila. I didn't quite get my fill either."

"Why am I here?" Peter whispered to himself.

"You're my best friend! You wouldn't dare miss my party! Plus I not-so-secretly pay all you and your aunt's bills so you owe me. How else do an unemployed kid going to college and an old woman with a low paying job keep their house, have tons of expensive items, and go on unlimited vacations?"

Peter threw up his hands and complained, "Come on! Being Spider-man has to count for something in this economy."

"Only in shitty reboots, Peter. Only shitty reboots. HEY, we're here at cake world or whatever."

Jumping out of the limo, Harry ran into the shop. He tripped over a couple chairs, but made it to the counter. A large chocolate cake with chocolate-drizzled strawberries coating it stood proudly on display.

"I want _that_ one," Harry said, drooling.

"Oh my gosh. I'm a person you know!" a woman in tight jeans standing near him shot.

"No, I wasn't talking about you. I meant the cake," he groaned, glaring at her.

He then added under his breath, "Fucking sluts thinking I'd chose them over cake. Pah! As if. Cake is bae."

The woman immediately left, bumping Peter's shoulder as he walked towards Harry. He saw Harry fixating on the giant cake.

"Jeez, Har, what was that all about?" he asked.

"Nothing important. I'm buying cake."

"Well, at least that's normal…I hope."

Harry bought the cake and had the employees carry it to a table for him. They added nineteen candles to the top layers and lit them. Then they began to sing Happy Birthday to him. Peter sang along.

Still fixating on the cake, Harry's eyelids began to droop. He yawned. Their singing was boring him to sleep. He swayed from side to side until he fell face first into the cake.

"Eeek!" one of the female employees shrieked, stepping away as the cake collapsed onto him.

"Is he okay?" a guy with dreadlocks asked.

Harry started to snore inside of the cake.

"Yeah," Peter sighed, picking off a chocolate covered strawberry and eating it. "This is normal for him, unfortunately."

After Peter had his fill of cake and let the employees at the bakery have some, he dragged Harry to the limo and let the chauffeur take him home along with cake leftovers in boxes. He had dealt with Harry enough for today. Once his pizza plan kicked into action, he wanted to be nowhere near Norman or Harry. That was a battle he could safely avoid.


	8. Pizza Inside of Oscorp

_The Next Day…_

Gawking at his cellphone with wide, sparkling eyes and an-to-ear grin, Harry began to silently laugh. He sat down on his bed. Covering his mouth, he laughed even more. Laughter filled his entire room. His eyes started to water from his unceasing laughter.

"It's happening. It's finally happening!" he laughed. "Mountains of pizza are going to fill Oscorp to the brim."

His phone slipped through his fingers and fell onto the floor. He rolled around on his bed chuckling. Soon enough he would strike his father. Revenge would be sweet, like pizza.

When Norman declared that he was going to Oscorp to check on some new research, Harry insisted on coming. Stunned by his son's sudden interest in the company, Norman happily complied. Father and son silently sat in a fancy limo together. Harry struggled not to fidget or giggle the whole ride there. He'd given Pizza Hut access to the building earlier. He had received confirmation that every single pizza had been delivered and his father' account charged.

One whole billion was gone, wasted on pizza.

The limo slowly approached the tall and mighty Oscorp. Every employee huddled together in a large crowd outside the building. Norman peered outside his window with a puzzled look on his face.

"What's going on out there? This better not be a strike," he muttered.

A horde of bodyguards gathered around Norman and Harry as they exited the limo. Harry walked beside his father, hoping to witness every moment of Norman's reaction. The crowd of employees made way for them without being told to. None seemed angered, just confused. In fact they all became silent as he drew nearer to the building. Even Harry held his breath.

When the doors opened a landslide of boxed pizzas fell out the door. Norman stepped back. His face turned white as he looked up at the seeming endless boxes in his company. They filled up the windows, making it impossible to see inside.

"Who did this?!" he shouted, turning back to look as he employees.

All of them shuttered at the sound of his voice. Harry covered the smile on his face with his hand. His ultimate revenge prank had succeeded. He couldn't wait for his father to look at his bank account.

"Somebody clean this up," he growled.

"B-but what do we do with all of this, sir?" a man in the crowd nervously asked.

Grinding his teeth, Norman shot, "I don't care. Just get it out of my building!"

A group of janitors approached the entrance where pizzas had fallen. They slowly stacked boxes outside on the sidewalk. Norman shook his head and headed straight back to the limo.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Harry asked, trying not to giggle.

As they both sat down, his father replied, "I'm going to work from my office at home today. Once this mess is cleaned up, however, I'll find out who did this. It's only a minor setback but a setback nonetheless."

"What? You're just going to leave?"

Norman sighed, "Yes."

"Dad, that's pathetic. Some douche just filled up Oscorp with pizzas! You have to do something. Show your employees that whoever did this will pay."

"Surprisingly you're right, Harry. You go home. I'll deal with this."

"But-"

"No buts. Go home and get sober," Norman demanded, waving finger at his son before slamming the door.

Harry sank into his seat. This was so unfair. Just because he came home drunk and unconscious yesterday didn't mean his father had to send him home like a child.

Another idea popping into his head, he had the limo take him to the nearest electronics store. He bought a disposable phone and texted his father: _Say goodbye to one billion dollars, fuck-face_. He had always wanted to call his father that. Laughing in the limo, he threw the phone out the window.


	9. It was ME

Playing video games for hours finally became boring. Harry let the console controller slip out of his hands and fall onto the floor. Rubbing his face, he actually wished that his father would come home already. He glanced at the windows realizing that the sun had recently set.

Groaning, Harry stood up and shuffled into the kitchen. He poured some chips and salsa into a bowl and began eating them. Cake leftovers were scattered throughout the refrigerator. At this point, he was sick of cake.

While walking back into the living room, his father entered through the front door. Harry grinned.

"How are things at Oscorp?" he asked.

"Do you need to ask? You saw what a mess is was this morning. Ugh, it's taking much longer than I expected to be cleaned up," Norman groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Yeesh, and you still don't know who did it?"

"No. I did get an anonymous text, however. This must be some sort of joke to whoever he is. I bet he's one of my competitors."

"Ugh, dad it's so obvious who did this! How have you not figured it out yet?" Harry asked, frustrated by his father's obliviousness.

Norman raised an eyebrow and gave his son a skeptical look. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He wanted his father to know what he had done.

"I FUCKING ORDERED A BILLION DOLLARS-WORTH OF PIZZAS AND HAD THEM STUFFED INTO OSCORP TO SPITE YOU BECAUSE I HATE YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!" Harry yelled.

Silent but calm, Norman simply sighed and shook his head. Harry clenched his fists. His father had to be angry.

Norman chuckled, "Harry, Harry, Harry, I knew that you had done it. I was actually proud of you for a moment there. You managed to put together this grand plan and execute it perfectly...err, almost perfectly. The one part you royally fucked up was telling me. You must _never_ reveal or admit to such a thing. If I was not your father, you would be in prison for committing such a high dollar crime."

"D-dad.. _.Almost_ proud of me? PRISON?" Harry sobbed.

"As per usual, you have disappointed me. Go waste your life on whatever it is kids do these days. I'll be in my office. Do not disturb me," his father instructed, before climbing the stairs.

Harry fell to his knees and stared at the carpeting beneath him. His father had brushed off his revenge as a pitiful failure. It stung so fucking badly. One billion dollars lost and his father didn't care.

"I hate you!" he shouted into the large, empty room. "Fuck your stupid Oscorp! I hope it tanks! I hope you die with it!"

His father didn't respond. He probably couldn't hear him. Harry sniffled. His urge to rampage had been lost. His father would brush that off as well.

"Whatever," Harry muttered, wiping his tears and getting to his feet.

Quickly, he sprinted to his father's room and pulled out a bag of mystery powder from the nightstand's top drawer. It was his father's last bag. Giggling under his breath, he snatched it and ran to his room. At least his father could be angered by his sudden lack of drugs.


	10. Purrfect

_Meanwhile…_

Norman checked his credit card files online to assess the damage Harry had done. A very large one billion dollars had been given to Pizza Hut. He frowned at the way too obvious transaction. If only his son had been smart enough to get rid of small amounts here and there instead of one large amount all at once.

"You never fail to disappoint me," Norman sighed, checking the rest of the transactions to make sure Harry really hadn't bought anything besides pizza.

The usual business transactions came up consisting of rare materials needed for projects, paying other companies for their research, etc. Something strange showed up every few weeks, however. Caviar, fine wines, and women's apparel hid behind all of the usual Oscorp transactions. Harry and him both hated caviar, Norman never bought wine with his company card, and he very much hoped that Harry wasn't secretly buying women's clothes. He had no idea who was buying all of these things.

A young woman sitting inside of a vacant penthouse smirked as she held a golden credit card in her hands. Before her was a laptop on a shopping website. She laughed as she added dresses, shoes, makeup, and a white wig to her cart. Then she added a skintight black suit, mask, and a grappling hook on another site.

"I almost can't believe my luck," she giggled to herself. "That rich kid dropped that card right on the street at that restaurant. Oscorp, huh? He's left me with an endless stream of money for a while. Purrfect."

THE END


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